Missing Piece
by Courbeau
Summary: Booth's surgery went well, and he's been home for a few months now. But he can't shake the feeling that something's missing.


7:12.

He was pretty sure that's what the clock said.

Through sleep-blurred eyes, Booth stared unmoving from his position face-down on the mattress.

7:13.

He should get up. He should start the coffee and have a shower.

7:14.

Booth closed his eyes again, squeezing shut and wishing for the clock to roll back and give him more time to lay there and procrastinate.

The house was silent.

Booth wiggled his toes in the warmth of the blanket scrunched at his feet. As his brain started to wake up, he became increasingly more aware of the drool spot under his cheek and the chill of the November air prickling his exposed skin.

Booth sighed.

The house was too quiet. It always was, these days.

He blinked his eyes wide, stretching his lids as far apart as they would go and looked at the clock again.

7:18.

Groaning loudly and shattering the stillness, Booth stretched out long and then brought his knees up to his chest underneath him, shivering at the cold, and stretched again.

Somehow, he had managed to strip himself in his sleep again. Booth wasn't sure why, but since the hospital, he had been doing weird things in his sleep, one of his new habits indicating a closet nudist just ready to burst out into the pale winter sun in a flurry of equally pale winter skin. Curiously, his boxers were _always_ stuffed up near the headboard. The only things he managed to retain overnight were his socks.

Running his hand over the cold bed, he searched for his underclothes, pulling them on after he stood up.

Booth yawned and dug the heels of his palms into his eyes as he stumbled quickly down the hall to the kitchen in order to flip the coffee maker on. The wood floors were like ice under the soles of his feet, instantly sucking all the heat out of his lower half. His hair stood on end as he made his way back to his bedroom, turning immediately into the ensuite.

The cold had upped his bladder alert level from 'good idea to empty' to 'critical evacuation'. He stopped at the toilet and jigged to keep himself warm, willing himself to pee faster.

In a smooth, practiced motion, Booth was standing under the hot stream of water, toothbrush in his mouth, safely within the confines of the shower curtain. The hot water streamed over him, warming his skin and seeping through his flesh, sending quivers of happiness and relief through his system.

Waking up to the cold was always one of the most depressing parts of winter.

His surgery had been almost six months ago now. That whole experience had scared him; it was so quick. Realization, discovery, solution. In such a short amount of time. He hadn't even seen Parker before he had gone in. What if something had happened? What if he had never gotten to see his little boy again? What would Parker do without his Dad?

Another point of interest for Booth was the status of his 'stuff'. He hadn't quite gotten around to asking Bones if she had ever used it, immediately after his surgery. But she wasn't pregnant now, so he assumed not; either that or it hadn't worked. Or, if she hadn't, would she still _want_ to use it?

Slowly, Booth traced the scar line under his hair as he shampooed.

Everything had been different when he had woken up. Life suddenly had new meaning. He was supposed to do what made him happy, and he had seen what would make him happiest; that didn't change the fact of reality. What he wanted wasn't his to take. What he wanted would have to be mutual, because you couldn't force that sort of love and comfort on someone. They had to feel it, too.

In truth, he felt a bit lonely after he had been able to come home. Suddenly, the fact that there was no one else in the bed next to him bothered him. He could do what he wanted, when he wanted, because he had no one else to care for, other than Parker. His days felt half-full.

Unless he was with Bones.

She had made sure he was okay after his return to his apartment. She stopped by all the time with dinner, hoping he hadn't eaten yet. Of course, he would be waiting for her, starving, with a grin as wide as the Mississippi hitched onto his face.

But the more she did for him, the more she was around, the more empty he felt when she left.

Rinsing thoroughly, he turned the water off and reached for a towel. After drying off, he stepped from the bathtub with the towel cinched around his waist and made his way directly to his sock drawer, searching for the warmest socks he had. From Bones, of course. But they _were_ the warmest.

Pulling the socks over his rapidly chilling feet, Booth flicked the radio on. The song playing seemed oddly familiar, yet the name and band escaped him. Humming, he chooses one of his identical dress shirts and a tailored suit from the closet. Dressing robotically, he paused a moment to consider ties. He couldn't choose.

Laughing to himself, he closed his eyes and spun the hanging rack in his closet, randomly grasping one in his fingers. Red and blue. His lips quirked as he deftly knotted the tie around his neck. Surveying himself in the mirror over the dresser, he sighed and ran his fingers through his hair, smoothing it back. Okay, routine time.

Sad face. _Check._

Happy face. _Check._

Angry face. _Check._

Surprised face. _Check._

Dashing from the room, he made a quick stop in the kitchen to fill his travel mug with coffee, and taking the new one from the dish rack, he filled that one too. He smiled to himself, thinking of Bones' face when she realized it was for her.

Sugar, milk.

7:57.

Crap.

He was going to be late.

Throwing his suit jacket over his shoulders and sliding his arms in, he grabbed the coffee and his winter jacket and flew out to the SUV, realizing he had forgotten his belt buckle.

The door slammed shut behind him, lock snapping into place.

-

"You're late, Booth."

Bones pulled the door of the FBI vehicle open and slid in quickly, pulled the door shut after her with a quick thump. She didn't look up for a moment as she unzipped her large jacket and pulled off her gloves. Booth waited calmly as the brushed a few errant flakes of snow from her hair. The soft pink glow from the rising sun accentuated the pink in her cheeks.

When she did look up, he held the coffee mug out to her, a big smile on his face.

"Morning, Bones."

Bones' face melted into a small smile as she took the coffee.

"Thanks, Booth. I didn't get the chance to make any this morning. The cold has my body slipping into a natural hibernating state, so I wake up later than usual. Even though I set the alarm for earlier last night to counteract those effects."

Booth pulled away from the curb outside her apartment building watching her look at the mug intently out of the corner of his eye. She smiled and turned the cup around and around, her fingers sucking up the heat from the coffee and her eyes searching the pictures under the plastic. Booth had gotten together pictures Angela, Hodgins and Cam had taken over the years. There was a group picture of them, including Zack, as well as pictures of Bones posing with people, arguing with people and hunching over the exam tables. Angela had insisted on using one she had taken, from before Booth's hospital trip. It was him and Bones, walking away from the camera, and it didn't seem very impressive really. He had his hand at her back and her face was in profile because she was facing him, her head thrown back and laughing. He was looking at her and grinning as they passed out through the main doors of the lab. He had snuck it in beside a picture of Zack and Hodgins preparing for another crazy experiment and under one of Bones face down on her desk fast asleep.

Booth saw her eyes pass over the line scrawled onto a strip of paper around the bottom of the mug.

'More than one kind of family.'

She turned to him, face glowing.

"Did you make this for me?" she asked, eyes wide and twinkling.

Booth made to smile and nod, but as he looked over at her, he froze.

Her eyes sparkled, her hair was slightly mussed from her toque and her fingers closed over the coffee. He suddenly saw her lying beside him in bed in that morning, glaring at the clock right along with him, snuggling back into the heat just as he did. Skipping to turn the coffee on in the cold, quiet apartment. Joining him in the hot shower. Picking a tie for him and setting out his belt buckle. Standing ready with coffee in hand for the both of them as they raced down to the SUV.

"Booth, are you okay?"

Concern now filled her eyes as she searched his face for any indication of why he had gone blank in the middle of saying something to her.

Booth blinked back at her, and his grin spread.

"Yeah, I made it for you. I finished it last night. I noticed you didn't have coffee yesterday morning. So..." he trailed off.

"Yes, thank you. But, Booth, are you okay? You just stopped talking..." Her eyes flicked to his head, expecting to find him bleeding from the scar she knew was there, or a tumour clearly visible under his hair.

Booth laughed and she relaxed.

"I'm fine, Bones. I was just seeing things."

She rolled her eyes.

"I think we can accurately determine it's not all in your head, Booth. I think your brain is all clean."

Booth grinned into his own coffee and pulled up in front of the Jeffersonian.

He hoped it wasn't all in his head. Oh God, please let it not be _just_ in his head.

* * *

**Hey guys!**

**For those of you following 'Unspotted', I'm working on the next chapter. I promise.  
I just had to get this and my other Bones idea out.**

**Okay, I realize that this is kinda sad. It sure was depressing to write. SadEmpty!Booth is not a Booth I like to write. But. *shrug*  
But I promise the one I'm going to post next, very soon, is waaaay more fun to read.**

**I'd also like to mention that some of Booth's habits in here are taken from my other Bones fic, Peppers, in case you haven't read it. It might make a little more sense as to where those habits originated in my mind if you did read it. But it doesn't really take away from the story if you haven't; this isn't a sequel, by any means.**

**As always, let me know what you thought. c:**


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